


Children

by 1thy_truth_is_won0



Series: in which everyone lives [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Baby Fic, Fluff, Gen, Kidfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:44:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2585150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1thy_truth_is_won0/pseuds/1thy_truth_is_won0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of AU one-shots dealing with Arthur's and Gwen's children, and Merlin's and whoever else I had decided to give progeny to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin and the legend of King Arthur belongs to the UK. 
> 
> Summary: A young prince wishes for a story, so his brother tells of the abduction of a handmaiden and her friends to the rescue. This is a much altered recount of Lancelot and Guinevere.

It was way into the night, so it was quite dark with exception being the light from the crescent moon and the gleaming stars. People would have to have a sufficient reason to be still up at this hour, much less wake up to it. In a rather large bed chamber and lying comfortably in a four poster bed, one adolescent boy had no reason. But he did wake up.

 

As he woke up, he knew someone else was in the room, because this someone had shaken him awake and was still at it.

 

He finally opened his eyes with a growl emitted from his throat. Blurry black met clear blue. His sight focused and saw his assaulter and owner of the blue eyes was a small tow-headed boy unimpressed by his growl.

 

"Gwy," the older boy narrowed his eyes, "you're supposed to be in bed."

 

"I can't sleep," Gwy replied, though his proper name was Gwydre.

 

"So I can't sleep neither?"

 

Gwydre gave a curt nod, "I want a story. Amhar, please tell me a story."

 

Amhar's frown deepened, but it did little good. He knew how his younger brother was like when he was restless and excited, which he had been this past month or so. He demanded attention and was a very determine child, as polite people would say. Others, who were at their wits end, say he is pig stubborn and a right terror. He will not go back to bed until he has had that story.

 

Actually, Amhar was glad Gwy did not go to and wake their parents. The new babe was due any day now and Father wanted Mother to rest as much as possible.

 

Amhar prayed to all and any gods and goddesses that the next one will be a nice quiet sibling.

 

"Right then, story time, then to bed," Amhar confirmed with relish.

 

Gwy, pleased with himself, climb onto the bed. Amhar scooted over as his little brother made himself comfortable. As soon as he did, he looked expectantly at his eldest brother.

 

Right then, what story to tell him?

 

Amhar searched through his drowsy mind for a tale to tell. He briefly wished that Gwydre bothered Jack for a bedtime story instead of him. Jack- Llecheu- his brother in crime and blood, knew thousands of stories thanks to those dusty old books and scrolls. He was fond of them as much as he was for his sword lessons and hunting. Amhar saw their value but much more keen on doing things and learning on his own.

 

And he did know plenty of stories- fantastic accounts by Merlin, quiet and prideful lectures on Camelot by Father, fairy stories by Mother. He just had to choose one that will entertain Gwy and lull him to sleep. Then a thought came to him and he went with it.

 

He began, "Once, there was a handmaiden. She was very kind and was loved by everyone.

 

One day, she was traveling with a noble lady, when they were attacked by bandits and took them away. With the handmaiden's help, the noble lady was able to escape and return to the kingdom."

 

"Why did the bandits do that to the girls?" Gwy asked.

 

"Because they're bad men and they like to cause trouble for everyone." Amhar quickly replied, "Now where were we-yes.

 

The noble lady told the handmaiden's other friends, the prince and the sorcerer, what had happened and they set off to rescue her. The handmaiden was taken to the bandits' castle, where everyone was a villainous cutthroat. They were all ruled by an evil lord.

 

'I'm going to keep you,' said the evil lord, 'and if you cross me, I'll throw you to the wildren.'"

 

"What's that?" Gwydre interrupted again.

 

"Giant bald rat creatures. They like to eat humans." Amhar wanted to clamp Gwy's mouth shut but since that will only make things worse, he decided against it, "You see, they had one trapped in a tunnel, where both openings were closed off by an iron gate. The tunnel led out to a big cage made of strong wood that was in the throne room. So whenever the bandits wanted to see someone get eaten by the wildren, all they had to do was thrown them in the cage and let the beast out.

 

Well, the handmaiden was in her dingy cell and feeling frighten and rather cross herself. She then heard someone calling her name. She looked over at the cell window and saw a swordsman, another friend of hers."

 

"She has a lot of friends."

 

"I told you, everyone loved her. The only people who did not were evil," Amhar said, now thoroughly irritated, "Now stop interrupting me.

 

Anyway, the handmaiden asked the swordsman, 'Why are you here?'

 

The swordsman, 'I couldn't find any work and ended up being the bandits' slave. I hate myself.'

 

The handmaiden did not like that, so she said, 'You are a good man. You can do better than this.'

 

The swordsman needed to hear that and stopped feeling sorry for himself. He and the handmaiden then planned their escape.

 

Meanwhile, the prince and the sorcerer got to the mountains where the castle was on the other side. They knew that the fastest way to get there was to go through the Tunnels of Andor. This was dangerous because wildren lived there. The thing about wildren though, is that they are blind as newborn pups and could only hunt by their sense of smell. The prince found some found a bush of foul smelling berries and he covered himself and the sorcerer with the juice so to throw off their scent.

 

They then went into the tunnels. There, a wildren came by and got close- right in front of them in fact- but because of the berry juice, it couldn't tell that they were humans and left.

 

Once they got out of the tunnels, they found the castle. They climb the walls and snuck inside. Inside, they saw that all the bandits were gathered in the throne room and the swordsman and handmaid were tied up in the cage-

 

"What?" Gwydre cut off, confused.

 

Amhar smiled sheepishly, "Sorry, my fault. The swordsman and the handmaiden were able to escape but got caught, were tied up and thrown in the cage.

 

Anyway, the wildren was about to eat them when the prince jumped in the cage. He cut off the rope and he and the swordsman fought the beast. The evil lord, now very cross, decided to kill them all with his crossbow. The sorcerer saw this and stopped it by having a chandelier almost fall right on top of the lord. He then jumped in the cage because it was the only place the bandits would not follow him.

 

The prince then led them all into the tunnel. The evil lord, not wanting them to escape, went in the cage to stop them but the sorcerer closed the gate. This trapped the lord with the wildren and it ate him.

 

The friends were able to escape the tunnel. The swordsman, feeling a lot better about himself, left on his own so to do good deeds. He became one of the most legendary knights of all time. Back at the kingdom, the prince and the handmaiden saw that they really loved each other and got married. When they got to be king and queen, they ruled justly and loved by all their people. The sorcerer got to be their top advisor and finally got that nap he wanted. And…"

 

Amhar noticed Gwy's closed eyes.

 

"Lived happy ever after?" Gwydre then asked droopily.

 

"They turned out alright."

 

Amhar smiled as sleep took over Gwy. With his brother asleep and given silence, became lost in his thoughts. The story of his mother's abduction after being mistaken as the king's ward was told to him recently. During a lesson, Merlin told him about the uses of gaia berries. After some prodding, he told him how Father thought of it while they were on their way to rescue Mother.

 

Amhar had a feeling the version he got was edited, not as much as the extremely simplified tale he just told Gwydre. Jack once said how there many stories within just one. What about all those bandits' stories, how did the swordsman come upon the evil lord, how did they capture a wildren?

 

There's probably a story as to why Merlin was so cautious in his telling the account to him.

 

Gwydre was now deep in sleep. Amhar carefully got out of bed and scooped up his little brother. Gwy moved a bit as he rested his head onto Amhar's shoulder and he made way to take him back to his own bed.

 

As he said, everything turned out alright.


	2. Birth of a Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prince of Camelot is born.

It was evening when the queen clenched her swollen belly and gasped in pain, signaling that the child within wanted out. She was whisked off to the bedchambers while her husband the king, for all his authority, was banned from the chambers by a steely-eyed midwife.

 

As the labor dragged, servants and nobles alike spread the news. The kingdom about their business but their queen was on their minds and the more excitable ones gathered in the courtyard waiting for any news.

 

Meanwhile, the queen was drenched in sweat, her voice gone hoarse from screaming, and tired from the pain, the feeling of being torn in half. The king was grudgingly waited in a separate chamber, accepting only reports on his queen's progress.

 

Then it all stopped. By dawn, as the sun's rays lighten the sky, a different cry came from the chambers. It announced that someone new had arrived.

 

A son had been born.

 

\---

 

"He's small," a young boy piped up. His clear blue eyes were fixed on the ruddy-faced mewling infant bundled up and wriggling peacefully in the crib, which was surrounded by him and two other boys.

 

"You were smaller," retorted an elder boy.

 

"Was not!" the child turned to glare at him. The elder simply rolled his own dark eyes.

 

"You were Gwy," blithely said the eldest of all three boys, "Father could hold you with one hand."

 

"Still can," their father stepped in. To prove so, he effortlessly lifted Gwydre with his right hand and swung him into his arms as the child yelped in surprise and delight.

 

"I'm not the littlest anymore. He is," Gwydre pointed to his new brother, happy to pass down the title.

 

"That's right, Duran is your little brother," Arthur explained, "He's going to need you."

 

"For what?" Gwydre questioned, "He's doesn't do much. Just sleep and cry. Looks boring."

 

"He's about three hours old. Give him time." Arthur said, "Then you can teach all sorts of things. Such as jousting, hunting, how to terrorize your brothers…"

 

His elder boys turn their heads to Arthur with identical grimaces.

 

"And you two can teach him the value of respecting his elders," he quipped with a smile.

 

"Jack can put him to sleep with his books," Amhar joked. As the eldest, he was used to having new siblings to "teach" and exchange loving insults with.

 

Jack- Llacheu- only hummed a response, since he was paying no attention to the conversation. He had curiously stuck out a finger to Duran's grasping little hands. His eyes widen when one hand caught the finger and held on tightly.

 

Arthur had to admit the difference between his sons, and how it went farther than looks. Amhar and Jack both took on their mother's dark hair and eyes; except Amhar's was lighter skinned and has a mop of curls while Jack was swarthy and freckled with unpredictable dark locks. Both were good and responsible, and kind boys whom loved to hunt and swordplay. Yet Amhar was outgoing, quite optimistic and relished in the woodlands while Jack was a quiet and reserved soul who preferred to read about ancient myths and philosophies.

 

Then there was Gwydre, who inherited many of his own features to a point that many say that Gwy was his doppelganger. And apparently, he caused the same amount of trouble. While Gwydre was nowhere near the spoiled brat Arthur was, he was very energetic, and relentless, and demanded a lot of attention.

 

And now here was Duran, with a head of glossy curls and apparent liking to grabbing things.

 

Jack shook Duran's hand and with a deadpanned tone said, "Hello Duran."

 

Duran let go of Jack's finger a moment later, scrunched his face further with a yawn and fell promptly to sleep.

 

"Come on," Arthur whispered, "let's go back to your mother."

 

With Gwydre still in his arms, he led the older two out of the nursery and into the connecting chamber where Gwen was resting in their bed. Her eyes opened once they all entered and smiled at the sight of them.

 

"What do you think of your new brother?" She drowsily asked.

 

Arthur let down Gwydre, and the boy ran to his mother's side. With a somber expression and uncharacteristic gentleness to her, he replied, "He's very small."

 

"He has a strong grip," said Jack as he and Amhar joined their younger sibling at their mother's bedside.

 

"He's a right terror Mother," Amhar grinned as Gwen laughed lightly.

 

"Alright, let your mother rest now." said Arthur.

 

"First a kiss," Gwen sat up tentatively.

 

The boys all quickly peck their mother on the cheek. Quiet talk of affections and swift questioning of well being were exchanged. The door then knocked, and opened to reveal Merlin with Sir Griflet, the one guarding the door, at his side.

 

"Merlin your timing is perfect for once," said Arthur, "take the boys to my study. I'll join you in a bit."

 

"Right," Merlin, letting Arthur's taunt go, "The council wants to see you."

 

"They can wait."

 

"They'll forgive you, with that sunny personality of yours." Merlin led the boys out, "Hey, Gwy lets go annoy Lord Rynor."

 

Arthur shook his head when he heard Gwydre's thrilled acceptance.

 

He then turned to Gwen, still with a soft smile.

 

"So they think of Duran fondly?" She playfully asked as Arthur went over to her.

 

"Well, Jack is impressed but Gwydre finds him boring."

 

They both laughed and he took her hand into his.

 

"It will get very interesting soon I suppose," Arthur continued, "Now that we have four of them. We have been outnumbered"

 

"Your fault." Gwen teasingly accused.

 

"What?"

 

"You wanted a big family. 'An army,' was your request." explained Gwen, her smile now a large grin.

 

"Four is hardly an army. And you encouraged it." Arthur countered, trying not to laugh too hard.

 

"They won't be lonely at least," Gwen sobered up.

 

They looked at each other. Arthur had thought of his elder three sons, his years with them along with learning how to be their father. How he will learn to be a father to this new little one. He thought of Guinevere, how good a mother she was and how amazed he was with her every time she bear them and brought them into this world. How much he loved her.

 

"Love you," he admitted.

 

"Love you too."

 

A cry then came across their ears, signaling that Duran wanted what he vaguely recognized as "Mother."

 

"I'll get him," Arthur got up and walked over the nursery.


	3. The Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin visits the lake.

 

There was a cool crisp in the air, making everything feel fresh and the sun's rays reflected gold flickers on deep gray blue ripples of the lake. Merlin reflected as well on the one who rested beneath the waters.

 

He never forgotten Freya. She was, he believed, his first love. How he loved her- fast and hard, with all sense gone. So willing he was to leave everything behind and make a life with her, having his destiny to wait.

 

Destiny, it seemed, dragged him back on the path, so he never deterred from it again.

 

Still, he made it a point to visit the lake, visit Freya, once a year, every year.

 

He usually went alone, but not this year. His companion had wandered off though.

 

Merlin's eyes searched the area for the wondering companion, and quickly saw a figure near the coastline. It was a little girl, crouching over the water as she stood so near to the edge.

 

He ran over to her, "Vivianne."

 

Vivianne kept her studious gaze on the water, taking no notice of Merlin flop to the ground next to her.

 

"What are you doing?" Merlin asked.

 

The small girl broke out of her reverie a bit, "Learning Da."

 

"Learning what love?"

 

"How to talk to water, ask it what to do," Vivienne then held out her small hand, stretching out her fingers.

 

"Talk to water?" Merlin quipped in an amused tone, smiled as Vivienne nodded enthusiastically in reply.

 

But Merlin did not take it lightly. He had planned to educate his daughter in magic when she was older, much older. But she was like him, showing signs of magic early and Morgana's blasted intervening did not help. He was cautious in her training, making sure they did not take things too fast or too much for her to handle, and made sure she was supervised at all times.

 

"Vivi," Merlin said the pet name warily (Funny, he wanted to name her after his mother or a flower of sorts, but Nivian was adamant that they give their girl her name), "Are you listening to the water all by yourself?"

 

"I have a teacher." Vivianne’s eyes squinted in concentration.

 

"A teacher?"

 

"Yes Da," Vivianne answered, "She's really nice. She's teaching me all about water talk and listening. She says I'm doing good."

 

It was then a circle of ripples came on the water's surface and instead of going out, they went into a single point in the middle. The middle then lumped together and grew, until a large water drop popped out and it steadily floated above.

 

"I did it Da! I did it!"

 

Vivianne whipped her head to him, her black hair flying and her mouth grinning widely. Merlin saw her eyes were flashing a lighting hot-white before returning to the usually deep blue.

 

Now he was really worried.

 

"Who is your teacher Vivienne?"

 

Vivianne was oblivious to her father's troubled face yet replied, "Her name is Freya."

 

The water drop then twinkled and Merlin knew he heard his name by a voice he had not heard in long time.


	4. Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now its Morgana's turn.

Since leaving Camelot, Morgana had learned about pain, actual pain. As a noble lady and the king's ward, she had experienced little. Now she had experienced pain that affected the body as well as the soul.

 

But this latest experience, it was very painful and petrifying – and she was so tired after yet she never felt so satisfied and undoubtedly happy.

 

She watched as her sister blessed her newborn daughters, and in that moment she felt she could do anything. After she had a nap.

 

"Look who wants to meet their mother," Morgause cooed as she placed one little girl in her mother's eager arms.

 

The past pain was forgotten once she held one of her daughters. Her daughters were so tiny and perfect, with pink skin and tufts of pale hair, a feature past down from their father. She wondered if they were also to have Urien's stormy grey eyes.

 

“Have you decided names for them?"

 

Morgana smiled at the daughter in her arms, "This one will be Morfydd."

 

She then looked up to see the second born squirming in Morgause's arms

 

"And you," she said tenderly, "You will be named Gwenhwyfar, after a friend most dear to me."

 

"They will bring greatness and honor to these names," said Morgause with no clear emotion except for pride.

 

Morgana held her firstborn and smiled. _Mine_ , she thought, _no one can take this from me_. 


	5. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew he was not ready to be anyone's father.

Arthur wanted to be a father.

 

More specifically, he wanted to be the father to Guinevere's children.

 

He also wanted to be a good father to those children. He was never really sure what it all entailed, but he knew it was more than providing food and keeping a roof over their heads. He wanted his children to approach him easily, so they can go to him when they were scared or hurt. He definitely wanted his children to trust him and never doubt his love or pride for them.

 

Yes, he wanted to be a father very much.

 

He just didn't expect it to happen so soon, but one day at lunchtime, Gwen said she had some news.

 

Arthur was happy of course - ecstatic really - and absolutely terrified. He knew he was not ready to be anyone's father.

 

Well, now he had get ready in less than a year's time.

 

Arthur's utmost concern was Gwen's health. Even with the truth of his birth and his mother's death - the whole truth and not a skewed version manipulated by a vengeful witch - he was still aware that women lose their lives in childbirth and even before then. He could not let that happen to Gwen.

 

So Arthur threw himself to the task of making sure that Gwen was healthy and comfortable. He thought he managed it quite well: relieving her of her duties so she won't strain herself, keeping any sort of illness from her, even overseeing her meals. He was not aware that he was effectively caging his wife in until she cried with frustration and told him that he was.

 

So Arthur stopped and learned how to help Guinevere without her crying.

 

An apology was in order and as Arthur had learned over the years, a talk would spare both him and Gwen a lot of turmoil and annoyance. So they talked and he expressed his concerns and apologized. He then let her return to most of her daily activities and lifted to the restrictions he placed. He had to learn to express his concerns over anything he believed to be harmful to her and their child. Again, talking saved them a lot of hassle.

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur was still anxious about Gwen and her health, but that was ultimately out of his hands. There was something else he was worried about. Arthur knew he still had to learn about how to be a father. At least know about the basics.

 

He had to go to someone who already experienced caring for an infant; he went to Merlin.

 

"Arthur, if you're worried about this, why don't you talk to Gwen...Vivi, let go of Daddy's neckerchief."

 

"I did, she sent me to you."

 

"Want me to tell you about fatherhood?"

 

"Well, you've been a father for three months now and she's still alive."

 

"Such faith you have in me. Alright, you know, it's not that difficult. I mean you have to make sure that they eat enough. And stay warm."

 

"Of course."

 

"And then there's the diaper changing."

 

_"What?"_

"Oh, when Viviane came, she didn't let us sleep for five days straight."

 

"Seriously?"

 

"Oh and you got to hold them the right way, support the head…"

 

"Hold on…"

 

"But the main thing is that you love 'em."

"Support the head?"

 

"Here, take her."

 

"Oh…"

 

"Arthur…"

 

"Merlin…"

 

"Could you not hold my daughter like a sack of potatoes?"

 

* * *

 

 

Then there was the naming.

 

Arthur had never thought about it until realizing that in the castle alone there were five Henry's, twelve Anne's, and every other person was named after a grandparent. If he left it at the last moment, his child would probably end up as Arthur the II or Guinevere the II.

 

After spending an hour in the library, Arthur found that his family was not creative in naming and that was not so different from the other noble families that have been recorded and put away on shelves. Wanting an outside opinion, he went to Merlin again, because he already had the experienced.

 

"Merlin, how did you come up with Vivianne?"

"What?"

 

"Your daughter's name. How did you come up with it?"

 

"I didn't. Nivian did."

 

"How? Tell me she didn't name her after that feather-brain harpy."

 

"No, after herself. Its family tradition - the daughters have some part of their mother's name. Nivian's mother was Niniane."

 

"Alright- how did your mother come up with your name?"

 

"Well, Mum wanted to name me after my father's father but she misspelled it."

So no one will judge him for being unoriginal. He went to Gwen for suggestions.

 

"William?"

 

"There are too many Williams."

 

"Thomas?"

 

"As much as I appreciate it, I do not want our child be named after any of our parents."

 

"Worried that he may inherit their fates?"

 

"That and can you imagine saying "Tom! Stop that!"?"

 

He gathered every name in the kingdom, rejected half of them for the meaning, how it was spelled or how it went with Pendragon. The other half was rejected by Gwen. Finally, Arthur decided to take Merlin's course- leave it to his wife.

 

"Amhar?"

 

"Yes. I like the sound of it."

 

"Gwen, it's a variation of my own name."

 

"Yes, I know, but it sounds nicer."

 

"What if our child is a girl?"

 

"Well, I talked it over with Elaine last time she visited and we decided on ‘Anne.'"

* * *

 

 

Having spent time in Viviane's nursery, Arthur learned what sort of things an infant would was the crib, the blankets, toys, bottles and the hundreds of nappies and minuscule gowns. He just was not aware that more would be needed in regards to his own child. Guinevere took to the task vigorously.

 

When she was relieved from most of her duties, Gwen made it her mission to convert the small parlor behind their bed chamber into the nursery. He watched as she directed her ladies-in-waiting and the maids in the cleaning and refurnishing of the room.

 

Arthur ended up having a conversation about her project with Sir Bors.

 

"They all do it Your Highness. All mothers want to prepare for the babe. I remember my own wife readying the apartments for our children's arrival."

 

They then caught sight of Gwen donning a practical gown, carrying a modest pile of rags. Behind her was her lady-in-waiting Rebekah carrying a stool and one of the maids clutching a pail of soapy water.

 

"Your wife washed the nursery windows?"

 

"Well, no Your Highness."

Wanting to help, he commissioned for a crib, a changing table, and other furnishings and the male servants to move them to where Gwen saw fit to place. He also commissioned for a cradle after Merlin discreetly advised him that a crib was too big for a newborn babe.

 

And the clothes, to which again Gwen took to the task with relish. At the looms, she weaved the blankets, needled the nappies and sewed the tiniest gowns.

 

It almost felt like they were preparing soldiers, but they were collecting and creating supplies for only soul though, with the needed food, equipment, and clothing and it was all done with hope, love and exasperated smiles.

 

Though it held no interest for him as a parlor, he would go to the nursery regularly. The old furnishings and tapestries were gone; in their place were the crib and the cradle. The gowns were put away in the chest of drawers and nappies in a shelf underneath the changing table. Clean and new rugs decorated the floors and curtains of a sunny yellow at the window. The whole room was light and cheery and hopefully their child will love it. It was definitely where Arthur wanted him or her to lay their head in.

 

His eyes then directed their attention to Gwen, looking a bit apprehensive and very much happy with her hands resting on her expanding girth and smiling.

"Do you think he'll like it?"

 

"I think he'll let us know."

 

* * *

 

Any day now.

 

The babe was coming any day now. That is what the physician said. That is what the midwife said. That is what anyone who saw Guinevere's large belly said. But it seemed that the child would say 'I'm quite happy here.'

 

Despite this, Gwen kept herself occupied with anything that needed minding and then napping for short periods of time. For him, it bordered on humorous and nerve-wracking seeing her waddle about, doing a balancing act and rubbing her back. He learned how appreciative an expectant wife could be after a back rub.

 

Still, the waiting was agonizing. And he knew that both he and Gwen were impatient to meet their child that hiding in her. While she felt the kicking and movement, and they see the big lump on her stomach, but they wanted to meet the little person that they took part in creating.

 

Then one night, while he was fast asleep, he felt himself being shaken. He opened his eyes forcing them to stay open and his mind tried to work out the drowsiness. He could make out his wife on the bedside, crouching over and gasping in pain.

 

"Arthur…its time."

 

He fell out of bed and then yelled for assistance.

 

As he sat down in his study, looking as if Gwen was being visited by a cloaked skeleton, Merlin came in whistling.

 

"What is that?"

 

"Wine. Part of the plan."

 

"What plan? There was a plan?"

 

"Of course there was a plan. We knew you would go crazy once Gwen brings in the baby. This is to help you."

 

"Getting me sauced?"

 

"Worked for me."

 

"You were passed out by the time Viviane was born."

 

"That was a good thing; before, I kept pestering Niv and she wanted to kill me."

 

"Arthur allowed for two goblets full while Merlin quickly descended to slurred words and confessed of embarrassing moments of his childhood."

 

When it was all over, Arthur was resolved to mention the reason behind Merlin's fear of bees, and Old Myrtle's dog and its infatuation for a skinny and big eared boy, not to mention the pond and a group of girls, and the turtle. But he will stay away from the subject of a certain old woman and her lack of doors, because even Arthur knew that was going too far.

 

* * *

 

 

It was almost a full day when he was told Guinevere was well, he had a son and whatever else the servant had said was ignored because that was all Arthur heard when he ran over to his wife.

 

As told, she was well, tired, drawn and too beautiful in his eyes. And, as he was told, he saw his son. Merlin, handling a headache and red eyes but managed a grin that split his face, stood next to him as they both faced the person Arthur had wanted to meet for some time, Amhar Pendragon.

 

"Amhar?"

 

"Yes. Guinevere chose it."

 

"I was expecting Arthur the II, so this is better."

 

"Thank you Merlin."

 

"We can call him Harry."

 

"No Merlin."

 

"How about Ammie?"

 

"No."

 

"Cubbie?"

 

"Get out."

 

He was all splotchy red with a tuff of black hair, and all wrinkly and wiggling. And he was small, so small. This tiny wrinkly and wiggling person was what he and Gwen made together and he was here now. Their son was finally here.

 

When Arthur finally worked up the nerve to hold Amhar he handled him like he would handle a fragile object. He remembered to support his head and then his son was resting in his arms.

 

His son.

 

"Hello Amhar, I am your father," Arthur whispered.

 

Amhar opened his eyes. They were black and had the unfocused gaze of a newborn.

 

Arthur smiled at him.

 

Then Amhar spat up. Arthur called for help.

 

A year and half went by and Arthur was quite use to a child's bodily discharges (and sometimes projectiles). Amhar grew to a not so tiny size, and walking wobbling steps and babbling incoherent words (His favorites being Ma, Da, and Ball). Arthur became more comfortable with being a father, more specifically, comfortable being Amhar's father. He even told Gwen they could have an army of children.

 

Then one day at snack time, as Amhar chewed on a carrot, Gwen looked to him.

 

"Arthur, about that army you wanted…"


	6. Quest of the Holy Quail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tale of the Quest of the Holy Quail. Or what children do when they are bored.

As King, Arthur was to see that his kingdom was running smoothly and everyone was doing what they were supposed to do. But then Guinevere told him that Viviane was late in bringing Duran in for his nap, and then Sir Pellinore grumbled how his two elder sons were not in the library for their lessons and finally Merlin remarked that Amhar was missing. He knew that five children were off somewhere else and so he, as king and father, had to go fetch them.

 

Arthur finally went into one of the unused parlors when he spotted his goddaughter holding a net.

 

It had been raining for the better part of the week which meant that the boys were cooped up in the castle. Seeing as the rest of the castle was more than a little occupied, Arthur had given the task of entertaining the youngsters to the seemingly capable hands of Viviane and Amhar.

 

"Viviane, what the devil is going on? " He said with more harshness than he intended.

 

"Hello Uncle," she only replied.

 

Viviane was hovering over Duran who was on his knees and looking underneath a wardrobe. His brothers Amhar and Gwydre were not far off, but appeared more professional as they hunted whatever beast they were after this time. He amusingly observed how Jack was stood far back, holding a small book- holding it in such a way so that one finger stuck in between the pages to mark the page he was reading.

 

Arthur then returned his attention to Viviane, "Viviane…"

 

"Well, you see Uncle," Viviane dropped the net tersely on the floor, "- Jack was reading us some story about questing and the little ones, Gwy and Duran, became curious so he started explaining the whole affair. Then they got excited and they've been awfully restless-"

 

Arthur stuck up a hand, motioning for her to discontinue her babbling which she did promptly. The girl could talk forever (much like her father) but she understood when to stop.

 

He then pointed to his youngest child, "Duran, what are you doing?"

 

"Questing Father!" Duran answered with glee and picked up the long-handled net with wobbly effort.

 

"Questing?"

 

"It's the Quest for the Holy Quail," Viviane clarified with just the subtlest hint of sarcasm.

 

"Quest for the what?" Arthur was more baffled.

 

"The Holy Quail!" Gwydre called out.

 

"Jack came up with the name," Viviane continued as she took the net back from a pouting Duran.

 

"Why?"

 

"Because 'Chase the Fowl' sounded stupid," Jack replied with a hint of exasperation.

 

"We're hunting for the quail- two teams. Whoever catches it gets to choose the next game," Amhar said. His eldest son was, as expected, devoted to his brothers and had no problem thinking up or even playing "childish" games.

 

"What are you?" Arthur asked Jack.

 

"Referee." Jack replied, nonchalant.

 

"And, uh, why a quail?"

 

"It was all we had at hand."

 

"...Where did you get it?"

 

"Oh, me," Viviane picked up Duran so he could peek over the overhang.

 

"Ah, you wouldn't happen to be using the quail we had given to your father for dinner, would you?"

 

Viviane began to form a reply, but chose instead to clamp her mouth shut, shrug, and smiled sheepishly.

 

"Viviane, you're too old to play with your food." Arthur reprimanded tonelessly.

 

"Bird!" Duran yelled, pointed to the window sill. Everyone turned there and saw their prize flapping in and perched onto the sill.

 

The Holy Quail appeared to be a gray-feathered, plump bird donning a small paper hat. Arthur was torn between bafflement at the lengths to which the game had been taken, and curiosity at how one went about attaching a paper hat to a fowl.

 

They, however, were not the only ones who caught sight of the bird, as The Feathered Holiness' dramatic entrance was ruined by the swipe of a paw, which it fortunately managed to dodge.

 

"Mim!" Jack cried out to his pet cat.

 

As Mim the cat chased The Holy Quail, the children chased after her. Duran was jumping strides with Viviane and her net close by, unsuccessfully trying to trap either one of the beasts. Jack was focused on his cat, his book firmly in his hand and page still marked. Amhar, with all his skills in hunting, was no better since he was busy keeping Gwydre from knocking over a vessel or running into the others. Arthur simply stood in the near middle of the parlor and watched the entire spectacle, waiting for an opportunity to act on and still wondering about the paper hat.

 

The bird then made the poor choice to try and fly past Arthur's shoulder and was shocked to find itself caught by the neck. As the bird struggled in his grasp, Arthur motioned for the cage.

 

Amhar came running with the requisite cage (in what Arthur supposed was an attempt at valiance) and the Holy Quail was swiftly thrown back in to its wicker prison.

 

Jack whistled Mim over and she obediently, if not dejectedly, plodded to his feet.

 

"Since it was I who caught its...Holiness, I choose the activities. Amhar, it is time for your lessons with Merlin; Viviane, please take Duran to Guinevere, it's high time for his nap; Jack, you and Gwydre head to the library for your lessons with Sir Pallinore."

 

The children dispersed, although not without some grumbling.

 

"The Holy Quail?" Arthur seemingly demanded of Amhar as they left the parlor and walked down the corridor.

 

"Well, Merlin suggested we have Mim play a dragon which we would then slay, but Jack wasn't having it."

 

Arthur swore he could hear the wizard's sniggering from where he stood.


	7. The Candle Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the this long ago prompt- before Morana went all evil smirk- by threemeows: Pendragon!kidlet wants to set up his/her favorite Uncle Merlin with his favorite Auntie Morgana. ;D ;D ;D What better way than Christmas to get those two bickering mcbickersons together?
> 
> So this is a Modern AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU, the only one ever. Just wanted want an scene with the kids.

The Candle Plot

 

"This is not going to work," said Jack.

 

To what he was referring to was the plot that his younger siblings, along with their cousin Maggie, hatched up to make the two most stubborn, secretive people he ever known to fall in love with each other. And he got roped into it. He really did not know what they were thinking. Merlin and Morgana could not be in the same timezone without a full on fight between them. But according to Maggie, that was a sign that they are passionately in love but need help to realize it. Like Benedict and Beatrice (he really shouldn't have given her that Shakespeare collection).

 

"Yes it will, so shut up." Gwydre scolded his elder brother.

 

"So, if Auntie Morgana and Uncle Merlin get married," little Duran cocked his head, "What does that make Maggie and Vivienne and us?"

 

"Step-nothings," Maggie replied, then stopped. "Do we have the scented candles?"

 

"Yeah," Duran held up the grocery bag, "Also the matches."

 

"Why the hell do you have matches?" Jack took the bag from his little brother.

 

"Hey!"

 

"Jack!" Gwydre protested, "You'll mess everything up!"

 

"He," Jack pointed to Duran, "Is not allowed to play with matches! Not after almost burning down the garage."

 

"Said I was sorry," Duran pouted, "And Dad had me paid for it."

 

"Jack," Maggie had that look on her face (the one he always succumb to), "Duran will not use with the matches. We just had him pay for it."

 

"And why was that?"

 

"Well, I was busy setting everything else up and Gwydre is banned from the market."

 

Jack, remembering Gwydre's stunt with the shopping carts, rubbed his brow, "Fine. So long as he is not playing with the matches. You're not going to get your mom with Merlin if the house burned down."

 

He handed over the bag to Maggie.

 

"Actually that might work," Gwydre lowered his head, with a dangerous look in his eyes, "People always know what's most important when their lives are in peril."

 

Jack stared at his brother, his insane brother, "No. No, no and no. We are NOT committing arson. You do and I'm singing like a canary."

 

"It was just a thought." Gwy huffed,"And its not like we would actually start a fire that would burn us all, only smoke to set off the alarms."

 

"Stick with the original plan." Jack felt a headache coming on. As ridiculous the Operation Lovebirds (yes they code named it), it was tamed compared to the newborn Operation Let's Start a Fire (yes, he just code named it).

 

"Okay," Maggie clapped her hands, "without further ado, let's get started. It showtime!"

 

Duran pumped up a fist, "Yeah!"

 

Maggie and Duran cheerfully left with a determined-as-a-Special-OPs-officer Gwydre followed. Jack stood in his place for a minute, wondering how it will all turn out, why couldn't Vivienne visit them instead of visiting her boyfriend's family (Merlin's daughter definitely had a say in whether it was alright to set up her dad), and hoped to God that they would not start a fire.

 

And with that, Jack Pendragon followed his fellow plotters and their insane plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I have no idea what Operation Lovebirds is. I just started and went with it. 
> 
> Next: Hopefully one with the other kids. This will be a Pendragon heavy drabble series, but there are others I want to write.


	8. Bronze and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its a tradition for the boys to make a gift for Guinevere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its from a prompt "inspire.

It was a tradition of sorts, one that started when the Amhar gave his mother a paper flower chain he and his father made on New Year’s. Therefore, whenever a celebratory occasion came, the sons of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere gave their mother a gift they themselves had made.

 

Over the years there had been more flower chains, bouquets of wildflowers, poems, drawings, and knives- usually ones made during a forging lesson.

 

But because Duran, the youngest, had grown past the phase of drawings accompanied by the scrawling of I Love Mummy, he wanted to do something special for his mother for the Solstice. An idea came to him while he was with his father at the silversmith. He recruited his brothers by way of plaintive pleas and big brown eyes gazes.

 

Amhar, the eldest, reasoned that they could not let him do the task on his own. It was their duty to help their youngest brother. Jack had no objections to lending his own hand, it was Duran after all. And Gwydre agreed to it because he had no idea on what to give Mother other than another knife.

 

They set to work immediately.

 

Amhar and Jack found some small wood planks to cut down and carve. Gwydre and Duran went to the forge the so to make decorations and nail them in, under the careful eye of the silversmith. All of them painted, with only Jack to have any success in the area. After muck time and effort, the gift was finished and it looked presentable.

 

That evening, just before the banquet, the family gathered in study of their father. The boys lined up in front of their mother.

 

“Go on Duran,” Amhar whispered to Duran and the young boy went to his mother and presented their gift.

 

“Boys, you did this?” Gwen examined her gift with a bit of pride and much love.

 

The result of all their work was a long bronze box with a simple cabin latch. It was sturdy with an overall smooth surface but a closer look would show a few smudges and metal teardrops near the edges. Nailed to the bottom sides were thin slabs of dark cherry wood that had carvings of leaves and petals with paint of reds and greens. On its top, was a metal disc shaped in the likeness of flower petals and had polished red stones scattered in its middle.

 

“Oh, its lovely.” Gwen praised.

 

Duran spoke up ecstatically, “I forged the box. Amhar and Jack did the borders, and see, the carvings too,” he touched one carved in leaf, “That’s theirs too. And Gwydre did the stones and he nailed on…”

 

Duran went on explaining his and his brothers’ work, detailing the forging and the pieces, praising his brothers and Gwen listened. His elder brothers stood in the back, enjoying the sight Mother smiling and Duran so happy.

 

“…We got the red stones so it’ll match…”

 

“Match?” Gwen asked Duran, confused.

 

“Father’s gift,” Duran replied, “We put it in already.”

 

Gwen saw her husband smiled quite satisfactory and she opened the box.

 

The inside of the box was just as rough as it was outside. There were more smudges, there were nails curled in so not to stick out and there was a thin velvet cushion squished in. Resting on the cushion was the inspiration of Duran’s box.

 

It was a set of three combs. They were gold and fashioned into flowers, with petals spread out, and leaves that weaved around them. Long tiny teeth stuck out underneath and in the middle of each flower were three small rubies.

 

Gwen took out one comb, and its rubies glinted in the light, and looked to her husband.

 

“You cheated.” She told him, for he was supposedly bound by the rules of the gift giving as their sons.

 

“I have you know that I had to give very specific instructions to the silversmith,” Arthur defended and gave a kiss to Gwen’s forehead. “Besides, Duran got his idea after he learned about the combs.”

 

“Do you like them?” Duran then piped up, “The box and the combs I mean.”

 

“Yes,” Gwen said as she put one comb intertwined delicately into her hair, “I loved them both. Thank you.”

 

“Good thing too,” Gwydre stepped in, “He kept trying to fix it, and we had to keep doing it over again.”

 

“He just wanted it perfect for Mother. Besides, you didn’t help when you broke the borders.” Jack argued.

 

“The hammer slipped, how many time do I have to apologize for that?”

 

“The border was messed up anyway. Good thing Jack only did the painting.” Amhar tried to neutralize the brewing squabble between the two.

 

Arthur ended it, “You mother loved the box, and now we have to go. All of you march.”

 

The boys filed out and made their way to the banquet hall.

 

“Thank you,” Gwen kissed him deeply and they soon left as well.


	9. I Can Fly!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Merlin look for Amhar. And argue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was edited from a previous work.

"I can track down a hawk on a cloudy day, how is it that I cannot find my own son?"

 

"Maybe you're lacking the right motivation. I mean, you're not going to shoot down Amhar?"

 

Arthur opted for a moment to murder Merlin, and then said, "You're the all powerful wizard! Chant something!"

 

It was then the frantic and dangerous father heard a giggle. Arthur's ear led him to the next room. The two men then ran in and soon found themselves in mounds of fabric and thread, for it was the seamstress room. Furniture was tossed and fabric rolls were pushed away until Arthur noticed his son's face, smiling at him.

 

"Amhar!" Arthur saw his tiny son up on a self ten feet above him.

 

Amhar jubilantly waved to his father, "Hi Dadda!"

 

"How'd he get up there?" Merlin asked, wiping his brow.

 

Arthur thought of all the practice Amhar had with escaping his crib, but replied, "Get him down!"

 

"Alright." Merlin said. He went over the fabric selves and with his best Uncle Merlin grin, "Amhar, do you want to fly?"

 

"Yes!"

 

"Stand still." Merlin whispered and his eyes flashed gold and the young prince was lifted by gold dust. He cried in exhilaration of flying and grabbed Arthur when he landed safely in his father's arms.

 

Arthur, relieved, said to his little son, "Let's play another game. Shall we?"

 

Merlin quipped, "But he's really getting the hang of Hide-and-Go-Seek. Aren't we Amhar?"

 

Amhar laughed from Merlin's tickling and begged his father to count again.

 

"How about a new game?" Arthur countered, "It's called 'How Fast Can Merlin Run'?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, there was a Princess Bride reference in this chapter. Let me know if you got it.


	10. The Winner's Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lancelot participated in a duel and won twelve boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor do I own Merlin.

The sun had already set when Sir Lancelot finished his inspection of the camp. Many of the men were already sitting wherever they could, eating dinner. Some others were looking after their newly won war prizes: twelve orphan boys.

No one was sure why Maleagant has been taking boys captive, but it had been happening in all the towns that were invaded. When asked, the boys only said that for awhile, they were fed and kept alive until Lancelot’s squadron came. They had no idea why they were ones taken.

Lancelot oversaw to their care, even as he was finishing up for the up and going to sit down and eat. He took his seat next to the campfire, and studied the other occupant there.

The flames flickered in any direction, giving everything near an unsteady glow and adequate warmth. Lancelot noticed the sparks reflecting off a pair of eyes that were so weary and tired. The eyes were owned by a five year old.

The sad eyes then noticed him. Lancelot was one of the few people that the boy would acknowledge.

Lancelot snatched the boy before his life was taken by his opponent. They took the child hostage and was about to execute him. He won his life in duel and made sure he got his winnings.

When he first met the boy it was at a confrontation with Maleagant’s army. They decided to make his compassion a weakness by parading children stripped naked, exposed to the cold and demanded a duel. Their lives would be spared if he won. 

He fought their champion, a quick and cunning man named Owen. It was hard, but he won.

But the men had no intention on honoring their word. As soon Lancelot had Owen on his back, they were set on killing on the boys. Their captor already had the smallest boy in his grip and a sword to his throat. Lancelot forgot Owen and lunged after his general.

He remembered snatching the boy away from the blade, meeting it with his own sword and after a few strikes, and killed the coward. He snatched the boy, yelled the other children to scatter. All round them, his own men cut down the would-be killers.

They managed to save the children- all boys of various ages, and injuries, twelve in all.

The boy and his companions were now clothed in ill-fitting tunics but good enough to keep warm.  Sir Harris’ squire made stew and Lancelot went around, making sure that all boys were eating. And then he saw the boy he personally saved.

Other than what he observed, there was nothing known about him, not even his name. The boy was mute and made no attempt to communicate with the others. None of the children could name him, explaining they were from different villages and so did not even know each other until they were thrown together.

“Here lad, eat this,” Lancelot handed over the bowel of stew into the boy’s small hands. “Its not very tasty but it’ll fill you up.”

The boy obediently accepted the bowel and started slurping it down. And as the he ate, Lancelot complemented the situation.

“What’s your name boy?” He asked, “I am Sir Lancelot of Camelot. I suppose I’ll have to call you something. I have some suggestions- Henry? William? Darry?”

The boy ignored him, concentrated on his dinner. Lancelot let it go, since his own attention was elsewhere. With one question- What now?

By all rights, the boy was now his responsibility. Overall, the children will handed off to Lady Elena, where protection was guaranteed in the great fortress. The boy will be fine there. But what will happen after?  He didn’t even know his name.

Lancelot remembered how he was all on his on at age thirteen after his home was wiped out. He did not want this child to wonder about alone. Or to not know his own fate.

Lancelot then said “Do you know of Camelot?”

The boy eyed him as he swallowed the stew. Well, he was listening.

“It is where I hailed, but it wasn’t always so; before I was drifting from all over the kingdom. It was that way after my own home was gone.” He stirred the contents in his own bowel. “It was strange how I decided to become a knight then. But I wanted to become someone who would protect others. And when I first did it, get knighted, it wasn’t even from my own name.”

The boy just stared at him.

“Long story. Perhaps I will tell it to you one day. And I still need to call you something.”

Lancelot tended to the fire, throwing in another log in.

“ Do you like Peter? How about after the king, Arthur?”

Lancelot then heard a whisper.

Lancelot turned to the boy. “Pardon?”

“Galahad,” the boy looked straight at him, “My name is Galahad.”

“Hello Galahad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in some continuities, Galahad is the son of Lancelot, so I figured that it might fit better if Lancelot adopted him.

**Author's Note:**

> Please Review, it will make so many people (who live in my head) so happy.


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